The Daphnis Lair
by atalanta's apples
Summary: The Ultimate Place: Daphnis Lair, where Hogwarts students go to make out and make love.


_Disclaimer_: I don't own.

**oo The Daphnis Lair oo**

**oo Chapter One oo**

"This is your fault, isn't it? Isn't it? I knew it, I just knew that you would find a way to fuck up my retreat!"

"For your information Malfoy, this isn't just _your _retreat. Had it occurred to you _once_ that maybe I don't want to be sitting here listening to you complain as well?" Harry said, irritably. That shut the other boy up for about two seconds.

"Geez Potter, you're an absolute jinx. How dare you do this to me? Does your life consist of making me miserable?"

"Funny that _you_ of all people ask me," Harry said, dryly. He sat down and leaned back, feeling the grainy wood at his back and stretched.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded.

"Relaxing."

"Why?"

"Because, _Malfoy_, it looks as though it might be awhile before someone realizes were locked inside the Daphnis Lair." Draco made a face at the words.

"This is revolting. I ought to file a complaint. My father-"

"Your _father_ probably doesn't give a damn about whether you're stuck inside some dumb shack that Hogwarts students use to copulate."

"Of course he cares!" Draco said, vehemently. "Besides, if it's so dumb, what were you doing here in the first place?"

"I could ask the same," Harry pointed out. Draco fumed silently and watched the other boy make himself comfortable on the dirt floor. Draco cast his eyes up at the wooden ceiling, wondering if he could see the night sky through the cracks in the wood.

"I can't believe I'm stuck here," Draco announced, _again._

"If you complain one more time I swear to God, Draco, I'm going to hex that head off," Harry said, his patience finally wearing thin. Harry really couldn't even if he wanted to. Neither of them had their wands with them.

"Maybe you wouldn't have to be hearing me complaining if you hadn't locked us here in the first place!" Draco barked. He paced back and forth, kicking the dirt up into the air as he walked the short length of the room. He shouldn't be here. He was Draco Malfoy! People like Draco Malfoy don't just become stuck in love shacks with Harry Potter, it's...it's...it's _unheard_ of.

"Why me?" Draco asked beseechingly, to the sky. He imagined himself to be Andromeda, chained to the rock, waiting for the sea dragon to come and eat his heart or his liver or maybe he was just mixing up all of his Greek mythology. But that's what he felt like, bound to this suffocating, small room with that infuriating Potter. Except he was lacking the womanly bits, but hey, close enough. This was a torturous situation for:

Fact: Draco Malfoy does not get along with Harry Potter.

Fact: Harry Potter does not get along with Draco Malfoy.

Fact: They were stuck in a room that is smaller than the size of Draco Malfoy's _closet_ back at the manor. Although, to be completely fair, his closet is a walk-in filled with all sorts of robes and shoes and even Muggle clothing because, to be honest, it can get a little boring wearing robes all the time. Draco had more clothes than his mother because:

Fact: Draco Malfoy is extremely vain.

He was, in fact, so vain that for the whole three hours he and Harry were stuck in the Daphnis Lair, he refused to sit down in fear of getting dirt on his lovely pants and rear.

"Just sit down, Malfoy," Harry said. "You're making a mess, stirring up all the dust and dirt." Just for that, Draco was even more determined not to sit down, or even casually, and very attractively, lean against the wall.

Draco mourned all these lost minutes stuck here with...with _that_ boy. Why oh why did he have to be stuck here with someone that lacked the second X chromosome? Draco forlornly bid farewell to his plan of having a romantic whirlwind of a weekend of pleasure and...well copulation as Harry had put it. What a waste of time _and_ his good looks. Draco discreetly patted his cheeks, wondering if the somewhat dry air of the shack might pull his skin taut and lose moisture. Of course he had a spare jar of this moisturizer he used tucked into his robes but he would rather perform a curse on himself than primp in front of Harry Potter. He would never hear the end of it.

Draco rarely admitted it himself but it was no secret to anyone that he was high maintenance. Draco demanded attention and it was lucky for him that many giggling students of Hogwarts were eager to give him some. He was reared on the constant fawning of his mother and the cold but unmistakable pride of his father so to be completely honest _he_ was the victim here. He couldn't _live_ without the constant adoration of fans. It was a very lucky thing that Draco Malfoy was attractive.

He had been a peevish, underfed, scrawny bit of a boy with a head of flaxen hair. Oh how the years had changed him. He grew, first of all. Secondly, he grew _into_ his body and no longer looked like the irritable, awkward young boy he used to be. Now, every muscle of his body was lean and toned from long hours of Quidditch. He had an inimitable smirk that had been trademarked to him. His devil-may-care attitude earned him a fan club among the fourth year, fifth year, _and_ sixth year girls. And his beautiful, soft, hair that was roughly the color of corn silk that used to earn him jeers like "albino" was now his calling card. It was a commonly uttered mantra among the girls of Hogwarts: "Just one run of my hand through that hair, just one touch of the flaxen fair."

Fact: Draco was one smoking sex god.

Unfortunately, his ego that was never in good shape in the first place, had blown out of proportion when he acquired this position. And it was also unfortunate for Draco that he was stuck in this god-forsaken shack with the ONE boy in all of Hogwarts that _might _have the potential to be his rival. Well, to be completely honest, this was what Draco liked to tell himself because:

Fact: Harry WAS, in fact, Draco's rival.

Harry grew up in the nonchalant, relaxed way that he did. With this blasé attitude came the bed-messy hair and sleepy, crooked grin (that some girls felt outshone Draco's overly cocky smirk, though none were courageous enough to say it to Draco's face). He developed a panther-like lope and grace and grew into an accidental poster boy. Harry, unlike Draco, had a sweet demeanor and unending patience (though how unending this unending patience is could be argued in the current situation) and boundless respect for everyone.

Fact: Harry was also a sexy cookie himself.

And Draco knew this, although he never liked to admit it to himself. And it infuriated him that Harry never seemed to care exactly how his hair looked or what he was wearing. Those goofy flannel shirts that he wore or the wrinkled t-shirt depicting a Muggle band became icons of fashion at Hogwarts. Draco almost burst an artery the day he saw Blaise dressed in a vintage T-shirt with the words, "The Postal Service" written across them. He demanded to the other boy, "Do you even know who that is?" The sheepish look on Blaise answered Draco's question. To think that people were following Harry Potter was unthinkable! But unthinkable did not always equal unreal for people_ were_ still following Harry with the blind devotion that they have since they were first-years.

"Imagine the things I could be doing if I wasn't stuck here with you, Potter," Draco said. "By this time, I would probably have taken Daphne to The Three Broomsticks and then we would take a walk outside and check into the Swanning Swain and we'd go to our room. Then I'd pull her into my arms and she would cry my name ever so softly as I brush my lips against her forehead, down to her nose, and onto her lips-"

"If you don't want vomit on the ground, Malfoy, I think you should stop nauseating narrative," Harry said. Draco looked over at Harry with hurt and irritation. No one in Slytherin ever interrupted him nevertheless tell him to _stop_ when he talked of his conquests. Daphne Greengrass was arguably the prettiest girl in the Slytherin house although that isn't a difficult feat seeing as Pansy and Millicent are prime examples of Slytherin girls. But Daphne was fine-boned and had a fey look about her with a permanently curving smile of blood-red lips that looked a bit wicked. She was the best Slytherin had to offer.

She was Draco's latest conquest although she wouldn't be for long if she found out what Draco thought of her as. Unfortunately, he thought of every girl as nothing more than a mere victory, an extra mark on his headboard, another name to add to the list of Draco's many girlfriends or one-night stands. Being the arrogant, over confident person that he was, Draco bragged of how he wooed and pleased each girl to the bed. Yes, Draco was blessed with good looks for his personality wasn't quite up to par.

Harry got up and examined the door again. He turned the door handle but the door itself wouldn't budge. If only he had his wand with him! Then he could finally taste freedom on the air outside and leave the company of this complaining git.

"It's not moving," he informed Draco, who was looking over his shoulder with interest.

"I knew it wouldn't move," Draco said to Harry.

"Well next time, why don't you tell me so you save me the trouble of having to get up?" Harry said.

"Daphne won't hear the end of this," Draco sighed. "She will think I stood her up and her confidence would be ruined for weeks. She'll refuse every date I ask her out on again in fear that I would reject her like she wrongly believes I did today."

"Yes, it is a pity that not everyone has such a positive self-image like you," Harry said. Draco nodded emphatically, not quite catching Harry's irony.

"This is all your fault, you know," Draco said. Harry settled himself back down on the ground and closed his eyes and, apparently, fell right asleep.

"Potter? Potter, don't you dare fall asleep. If you put me in this predicament, you might as well stay awake. If I suffer, you suffer!" Draco tapped Harry's shoulder with his foot.

"Oh leave it, Malfoy. We're stuck here until someone realizes we're gone and comes to hex that damn door right off its hinges so I might as well sleep instead of listening to you complain about every little thing." Draco scowled.

"Well you don't have a choice," Draco said. "You're staying awake until we're freed and that's that." Groaning, Harry sat back up. He wasn't in the mood to fight with Malfoy, who was acting childish beyond belief.

"And what good will it do to you if I'm awake? I hope you don't plan on telling me any more fantasies of you and girls because then I swear I will hex you even without my wand."

"It's cold," Draco complained. He rubbed his hands together and pulled the scarf even more tightly around his neck. It was December and the faculty had been kind enough to treat them to an all expenses paid visit to Hogsmeade for the weekend after taking final exams for their semester. The final meal of the semester would take place Monday evening and now it was only Friday evening, which meant a possible maximum of three days being stuck in the Daphnis Lair before anyone really notices.

Come to think of it, who would notice then too? It's a Dining Hall full of students; would anyone miss their two most attractive one? It was possible but Draco wasn't taking any bets.

"It is a little cold," Harry agreed, tucking his coat around himself more tightly.

"Are we going to be stuck here until Monday?" Draco whined. Harry gritted his teeth and only when his fists relaxed in his pockets did he trust himself to answer.

"No, I'm pretty sure people have noticed we're gone. It's only a matter of time before they realize where we are."

"If you're wrong, Potter," Draco threatened. "I swear the minute I get my hand on my wand you'll find yourself earless and covered with boils."

"It'll be another hour, at the most," Harry said, more for his own sanity than to reassure the other boy.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hey Hermione?"

"What Ron?" Hermione asked. They were milling around Zonko's buying last minute Christmas gifts.

"Where do you think Harry is? He's been gone for a long time," Ron said. Hermione's eyebrows knitted together in thought.

"You know, you're right. But Harry can take care of himself. I'm sure he'll join us when he wants to." Ron shrugged.

"You're right." And they went right back to browsing.

At the other side of the shop where Blaise and Pansy happened to be shopping with Crabbe and Goyle as protective wind breakers for the bitter, cold wind outside, a similar conversation was taking place.

"Hey where's Draco anyway?" Pansy asked. Blaise shrugged, disinterested.

"Probably doing Daphne somewhere," he said, somewhat bitterly.

"Is that all he's going to do the whole weekend?" Pansy asked.

"I guess that's what he's planning on," he said, desperately wanting a change in the subject. Tales of Draco's numerous girlfriends was bad enough coming from Draco's own mouth and he found no need to have to discuss it with other people either.

"Do you think my mom would like the Non-exploding Luminous Balloons™ or the Self-Shuffling Playing Cards™?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo


End file.
